


For the Faithless

by HobbitSpaceCase



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Cutler is confused, Hal is evil, Hal is frustrated, M/M, and then doesn't happen, but maybe doesn't want to be, read the notes at the end for more warnings, sex almost happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HobbitSpaceCase/pseuds/HobbitSpaceCase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hal's been having a bad week. He goes to Cutler to relax.  It doesn't really work out well.  Some things, as they say, are simply not meant to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Faithless

**1955**

The peace of the posh hotel was shattered with the arrival of Hal Yorke. He strode through the doors like he owned the place, which, to be fair, he did. His arrival was met with a flurry of activity as the vampires in the lobby hurried to find a task to occupy their eyes so they would not have to meet those of the Old One. No one could tell, these days, when Hal would be in the mood to break bones for an unwanted look; even with vampire healing, broken bones hurt like a bitch. It was better to let someone else approach him first.

"Cutler!" Hal barked, not even glancing at his lackeys as he headed for the staircase at the back of the lobby. The vampire in question received several unsympathetic glances and more than a few snickers as he jumped at the sound of his name, sending the papers he had been sorting through floating to the ground. He cursed, ignoring the sneers and whispers of the others. Those papers would take ages to sort out again.

"Leave it," Hal said from near the stairs. Cutler flushed at the fact that his maker did not even need to look to know that he had dropped something. "I want to talk to you."

With one last frustrated look at his work, Cutler sighed and followed Hal up the stairs, to one of the nicest rooms near the top of the hotel that Cutler had never been in before. Usually, he talked to Hal in the room a few floors down that Hal had commandeered for a study. Hal held the door for Cutler, waiting for the younger man to enter before following. The click of the lock sounded ominous in the quiet of the room.

Cutler's first impression was of red. The color dominated the room: crimson wallpaper, scarlet silk sheets on the bed, even a deep red carpet. He hoped he would not be adding any of his own red blood to the décor.

Cutler swallowed, turning to face Hal. "What did you want…" he began, but his question trailed off as he found himself pressed against a wall, Hal crowding into his space with a look of frightening intensity in his eyes.

"I have been having," Hal said, shuddering as he breathed in Cutler's scent, "a bad week." Cutler, pinned against the wall by one of Hal's hands on either side of his head, held back a snort. From what he'd seen, it was more than a bad _week_ that Hal was having. Instead, he held himself still, waiting to hear why Hal had called him up. He dearly hoped he wasn't about to get dusted just because his maker needed to let off some steam.

Hal leaned further into him, burying his nose in the hollow of Cutler’s throat. His hands pressed rigidly against the wall while his breath sounded sharp and harsh in the otherwise quiet room. After a moment, Cutler tentatively began to relax.

So, he probably wasn't about to get a stake to the heart, but he was not entirely sure he was going to like this 'talk' regardless.

Cutler took a shaky breath and found his voice. "A-are you a'right?" he asked proud of himself when his voice only shook a little bit. Hal responded by growling low in his throat. Cutler shivered, wondering if he had jumped the gun in calculating his likelihood of survival.

"I need," Hal said finally, his calm, slow voice at odds with his harsh breathing, "something to take my mind off of things for a while." He pressed flush against Cutler, and the younger vampire finally understood.

Cutler's breath caught in his throat, and his mind went blank. A very obvious erection was pressed into his thigh, and he became rather suddenly aware of his own half-hard cock.

"You're awfully quiet, for once," Hal said, his voice a whisper in Cutler's ear. Cutler wasn't sure when Hal had begun kissing his neck, but the soft sensations sent little tremors of pleasure down his spine, pooling in his belly and his groin. He whined with pleasure as Hal licked a path up his neck, following the artery that had carried life-sustaining blood to his head, back when his heart still beat. "If I had known it was this easy to shut you up, I'd have tried this ages ago," Hal mumbled, a soft laugh muffled by Cutler's skin. One of his hands had made its way from the wall to the back of Cutler's head, and he wound his fingers in Cutler's dark hair, mussing the neat locks and dragging Cutler's head to the side for better access to his neck.

With a great effort of will, Cutler brought his hands up and pushed at Hal's chest. The Old One pushed back at first, misinterpreting the gesture, before he pulled away and stared down at Cutler, his eyes fully black and a scowl on his face. "What?" he asked. "Are you not enjoying yourself?" His lips quirked in a nasty smile. "I thought you wanted to get my attention more often."

Cutler swallowed, his mouth going dry. It would be so _easy_ to give in, to let Hal use his body and get lost in his maker. His cock throbbed in response to his thoughts, fully hard now. "I c-can't," he said, watching annoyance flash across Hal's face.

"I should have known you would be useless even at this," Hal said. His grin was as sharp as his fangs, and Cutler looked away.

The red wallpaper bled over his vision, reminding him of the thirst that never left, the unquenchable _need_ to slaughter and consume every human he came across. Blond hair and bright eyes flitted through his mind, a memory of the love that monsters did not deserve. Hal was his maker, his god, his everything, but he was just a fleeting annoyance, bringing pleasure these days only through amusement at his continued failures. It was a wonder Hal _hadn't_ brought him up here to kill him and put him out of his misery.

Hal yanked once, viciously, with the hand still wrapped in Culter's hair, and Cutler found his eyes dragged back to Hal's. Even with his eyes gone back to their usual hazel, they still looked dead, empty and cold. "If you're not going to make yourself useful, then get out of my sight," Hal said, dragging his nails across Cutler's cheek as he removed his hand.

Cutler imagined the red streaks that would not appear on his face from the gesture; no mark would be left from blood beneath the skin of one who's heart no longer beat. Then again, Hal had already marked Cutler in a much deeper manner long ago. Without thinking about it, he reached out to grasp Hal's hand.

"Wait," he said, his soft voice catching in his throat, and he would have flushed if he were still able to. Hal glanced back at him, one perfect eyebrow raised over a disinterested frown. Cutler stumbled over his words in an attempt to explain something even he did not fully understand. "I-I want to," he said, "but I d-don't know how."

Hal laughed, cruel and mocking. "I would have thought that even _you_ could figure out the mechanics of sex, Cutler," he said. "I remember that pretty wife of yours." He smirked, and the sight was far more terrifying than his fangs. "But then, maybe she only married you because she knew you were too pathetic to try anything. I let the boys play with her before they killed her, you know. She was quite a screamer." Hal grinned at his own joke, and Cutler slumped against the wall, his knees nearly giving out.

"Stop it," he said, voice muffled by the hands he held over his face, trying to block out the memories. Hal only laughed harder.

"Please," Cutler begged. "Not that. I know I'm a rubbish vampire, and you can mock me all you want, but _please_. Don't mock that."

The laughter ceased, and Cutler chanced a look up. Hal was frowning down at him, an inscrutable look in the older vampire's eyes. "No," Hal said, almost seeming to speak to himself. "I suppose I shouldn't mock that." He grinned again, but the expression had turned brittle, as though the slightest push would send it tumbling away in pieces.

"Well," he said, false cheerfulness descending upon his words, "I suppose you at least managed to distract me a bit from my thoughts, so that's something. There's another dogfight tomorrow, as I'm sure you know. I expect I'll see you there. I'm betting we'll see another dead human at the end, but it won't keep happening too much longer; this dog's tougher than most, but he's got to wear down eventually." With a start, Cutler realized that Hal was babbling.

"Righ'," Cutler said, rising slowly from the crouch he had fallen into. "If that's all?" He glanced hopefully at the door.

"Of course," Hal said, already turning away. "I'm sure you had something unimportant to attend to." The barb lacked the sting of Hal's usual insults, but Cutler was still all too happy to escape. That had been a thoroughly unsettling experience.

He glanced back one last time, noting Hal's profile where he stood beside his desk, the last rays of sun falling across his features and painting him in shades of gray that contrasted with the rest of the room. He seemed almost a shadow like that, a distant, unreachable figure come down from some far off place to mingle with lesser mortals. Cutler shivered, a mixture of desire and shame trickling down his spine. He would never be worthy of a man like Hal.

Later, after Hal had disappeared right before the dogfight was set to begin, with nothing but broken chains and a bit of dust shifting across the ground remaining to tell his fate, Cutler would find himself back in that room at the top of the hotel, flinging papers from Hal's desk in a desperate bid to find some _reason_ for what had clearly occurred. He would drop to the ground, struggling to hold in screams of rage, silent shudders wracking his body as he tried in vain to suppress the emotions that always proved his ruin.

It seemed too easy, that Hal should be killed by an escaped werewolf. Lord Harry was a legend, an Old One. He was Cutler's maker and the vampire who had stolen every scrap of Cutler's life and replaced it with himself. Cutler would bite down on his hand, the warm blood that oozed from the wound a poor substitute for the living blood he craved, ever since that first meeting with Hal.

Now that Hal and Rachel were both gone, Cutler would realize that he was nothing again, reduced to the little boy he had once been, standing alone, mocked, and hated on childish playgrounds in primary school. Hal had given him the illusion of greatness for a brief moment, a hope for meaning in his life.

Cutler would remember the events of the previous evening, and a part of him would wonder if maybe he could have done something, should have been there when Hal went to speak to the wolf. Another part of him would think, cruelly, that Hal deserved his fate. Most of him, though, would just be numb.

He would get up later, return to the rest of the group and keep on trying to make something of himself as he always did. Later, he would face the rest of Hal's gang, and he would find himself treated like dirt that had been tracked in from the wild. With no Hal to form a snake-tongued barrier between Cutler the constant failure and the rest of his dull witted lackeys who yet still managed to succeed more often than he, Cutler would find himself fading into the background. For that night, however, he would stay undisturbed in Hal's room, lost and alone with Hal's scent all around him one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> This was another fic that I wrote a while ago and now decided to clean up a bit and move here.
> 
> Warnings for a brief mention of Rachel Cutler's death, and implied rape of Rachel Cutler before her death.


End file.
